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2014.02.17 - Thank you, Presidents
It was late morning in Hell's Kitchen. This was the precious hour before most of the night's more 'rambunctious' regulars began their groggy-laden awakenings, filling their deviant hearts with twinkle-eyed dreams of muggings, robbings, and general sketchy behavior. So, it was quiet... mostly. Outside of The New York County Clinic a group of a dozen rather ragged, loud homeless men had gathered... right in the middle of the intersection, much to the disdainful honks of the occasionally unsuspecting passing car. The cars made it by, but it took a while to circle around the merry brigade, who had dragged out a large metal barrel and were warming their wintery hands by the fire lit within. They were disturbing the area, certainly, but aside from jay walking and loitering, and being generally obnoxious, drinking in public... still, it was a very mild offense for the area. In truth, all of this started because all of these men had showed up to utilize the clinic--unaware that today was in fact President's day, and it was closed. This was their spontaneous alternative for how to spend the day. Perched on a rather crumbled porch stoop about one-hundred feet from this scene was the fair-skinned Olivia Grace. She was dressed rather oddly considering the cold wind, wearing a fancy formal gown clad with frills and lace. She watched the group, mumbling to herself, sipping a large jug of iced tea. The only reason Soleil is in the area, heading for the clinic is he's pushing his shopping cart filled with supplies along, blankets...food goods, things like that as he notices the drinking men and he shakes his head. He wears a pair of dark blue overalls, tied at the waist with a dark green hoodie under a dark blue suit jacket, his hair pulled back in a low ponytail, a dark green knit cap on his head and a cigarette dangling (unlit) from between his lips as he puffs out his cheeks and pauses before coughing softly and raising his voice. "Food? Blankets? Asprin?" His accent thick and lilting. Still thinking about the previous night's battle with chocolate golems of all things, Eddie Thorson's out on a little 'undercover scouting' mission. Of course it's only undercover in the sense that he's doing it as 'plain old Eddie' and not the teen hero Axiom but it's what he's thinking it is. He's a dork sometimes. Dressed in jeans, a homemade Wiccan-logo t-shirt, and his Captain America themed leather jacket, Eddie's on his way from checking out an apartment that might just belong to an evil sorceress when he spots the gathering in the street. He frowns a little before approaching slowly to see what's going on. Olivia Grace swivels to look at Soleil as he passes. After a moment of consideration, she chirps up, trying to get his attention. "Gathering roughage one should ought to... travels dream frazzled. Clippings are somethings," she says, her large eyes blinking, staring. She pushes her mouth into a smile, and begins rummaging through her satchel she's got strapped to her side. About six seconds later, after some furious digging, she's claimed some sort of clear plastic bag. Standing up, she steps closer to Soleil, still smiling, and extends the bag to him, offering it. On a quick glance, it looks like procured herbs: mint, basil, and cilantro. "Whence thimbles fill, delight boomerangs." Soleil looks and notices Eddie walking past and then he takes a deep breath and turns back to the homeless men, bobbing his head politely and handing over takeout cartons of food to the men and hesitating before looking to Olivia, eyebrows raising as he takes a few steps towards her, accepting the bag and he sniffs the bag, once or twice before shivering, face lighting up. "Oh Mon Dieu..." Olivia continues to smile pleasantly. It's rare that she makes a connection with someone--and even frivolous moments like this mean something to her. She glances over to Eddie, seeing his close proximity, and then back to Soleil. Behind her, a few more homeless men randomly wandering around the area have spotted the gathering around the barrel, and have joined the group's unabashed revery, hooting and yowling. This group seems to be a magnet for a larger and larger gathering. Olivia, twitching for only a quick second--perhaps a nervous response to the uptick in surrounding noise, comments, "Have the springs been unwound this brisk-fowled basket?" She eyes Soleil, and his shopping cart. "Have longings been falling? These hearths are strange. Candles in the dark," she mutters. "Mm." Soleil inhales once more as he sniffs the bag of herbs once more and smiles dreamily before quickly blinking and looking back to Olivia, tilting his head to the side curiously as he looks from his bakset and back to Olivia. "Oh, pardon...merci, just...merci...oh merci..." He takes a deep breath. "I have...chicken, oui, chicken and rice and ah...le-eh, the cookies like animals, oui?" He offers softly, moving closer to his basket to make sure its not being...ya know, stolen. "Have you fathomed lost findings?" Olivia asks, scooting a few little steps away from the cart, making sure to not to be mistaken as a potential thief. She extends her index finger, pointing it North, "Blessings and gifts bestowed for head-nodding," she said, as if directing something. "Placating for The Gods," she concluded. She stops for a moment, and looks into his eyes, just standing there. After a moment, she moves to place the palm of her right hand upon his cheek, just for a moment. "Weathered, some. Troubled. Storms. Have you not found a calling?" she asked in a tone most sincere. Eddie blinks a little as Olivia speaks to him, looking confused. It's not the weirdest thing he's ever heard but it's still not anything he makes sense of. He offers a little smile though. "Uh...hi," is all he can think of to come up with. When that bag of herbs is produced, Eddie squints to make sure it's not anything illegal before turning attention back to the group of homeless men. Approaching the fire barrel, he looks for one of the men that looks the least drunk. "Excuse m-m-me," he speaks up. "What's the celebration about?" "Ah non. None of the lost yet but...many have been lost these few days, every day, they are screaming out but people are not listening." Soleil responds softly to Olivia before he blinks and freezes when the lady reaches out to touch his cheek and his lips part as he murmurs softly in French before glancing over his shoulder at where Eddie is headed over to the other men before looking back to Olivia. "Pardon...I am Soleil." The homeless men largely ignore Eddie, they're way caught up in their own loud blathering. But the man closest to Eddie peers over to him, a semi-demented, alcoholic-infused grin plastered on his face. "Come 'n join the festival!" the drunk says, slurring his words, trying to wrap his large arm around Eddie's shoulder as if he were one of the group now. "It's the day for the Presidents!" he shouts, loud enough for the entire block to hear. "Thank you, presidents!!" Olivia's gaze mimics Soleil's, and she too looks over to the odd exchange Eddie is having with the drunkards by the barrel. Still looking away from Soleil, she responds to him: "Wispy is that for I'm named, when the cackles are stifled, and titles bestowed." Eddie's frown only deepens when he notices that drunk expression and he tenses. He's got a bad history with drunk people. Carefully ducking away from the arm, Eddie sighs a little. There's a moment of confusion at the mention of what day it is though until it clicks with him that it's president's day. Frowning more, Eddie glances around. "Y-yeah, thanks to the Presidents. Shouldn't we m-m-move the festival somewhere warmer though? Or at least safer. T-t-too many cars out here in the street." "Ah...Merci! Presidents!" Soleil echos the drunk individuals before looking back to Olivia. "A pleasure to meet you....Mademoiselle Wispy, come, let us join the festivities with the food and ah, to make sure tings are..." He trails off before looking to Eddie and raising his voice. "Oui, inside is better but not for this lot, they will be even wilder when confined." "Fer gawd's sakes, son!" the drunkard says, focusing even more of his attention on Eddie, turning towards him. "Them cars... every day it's for the cars. Why don't we get a day?! Can't we get a day?! The people without the cars!" he shouts scoldingly. Another drunk fellow notices the shouting, and turns to Eddie, following up with "Yeah!! What about us!!"... though it's entirely possible this newcomer to the quote-unquote conversation has no idea what the exchange is quote-unquote about. Olivia Grace's face gets nervous. She doesn't much care for uncontrolled outbursts, and she doesn't like what she sees. She looks over to Soleil with a worried expression. "Painful itches," she says, pointing to the second drunk that speaks to Eddie. "Lingering rage." Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose a moment. "We should get a day but those people in the c-cars aren't nice. Some of them are pretty unsafe and m-might hit us," he says. He then frowns slightly at Soleil. "I'm t-t-trying to get this out of the street before it ends in m-more confinement," he says, worried someone might call the cops. Soleil looks to Eddie and then back to the men and then back to Eddie and he sighs, giving a small nod before looking to Olivia, smiling softly and shaking his head. "Oui...it always is lingering..." Then he's jogging up beside Eddie, coughing and bowing his head before looking back up, voice taking on a more panicked quality. "40th and 23rd...they are trying to help Mr Fernidad empty his liquor store. Big ting, two blocks down..." He raises his voice. "Mon Dieu, somebody's called the cops, public disturbance..." The second drunkard looks progressively more upset the more Eddie speaks, and he seems to be pomping his chest and muscles as a reflexive act of intimidation. "Ya know what we do when a car wants to hit us?" he says angrily. "We hit back!" His declaration is loud and echoing, and more of the gathered men turn to look. Not sure what's going on, they're more than happy to join in. "Yeah!" "Yeah!" "We hit back!" "We hit 'em!" "Hit 'em!" "Hit em!" The fervor raises, but when Soleil approaches with his warnings of the police, a few of the homeless men catch the idea, and back down. One of the men begins sketchily wandering away almost instantly. Olivia has stepped closer, but is still keeping a good twenty feet from the group. She's tapping her feet, and mumbling to herself in a rushed, uncomfortable tone. That man flexing and trying to look intimidating gets Eddie's full attention. Sure he looks about as intimidating as a soggy kitten himself but if the man is going to start a fight or endanger himself, he's ready for action. "Sir, I'm pretty s-s-sure the car always wins that fight," he says simply. Soleil gets a quick grateful look before Eddie turns attention back to the group to see how they'll react further. Soleil's gaze follows after the sketchier of the individuals before he looks to Eddie, nodding at the quick grateful look, coughing and raising his voice again. "Looking for a man...oh shi-I am hearing them, a man...5'11 or so, they are not knowing. Wearing a ahh, I tink they are saying a thick brown coat, small feet um, the greying black hair..." He gives a description and shudders. "It is not good..." The drunkard squints at Eddie, clearly not quite following him. "You wanna win a fight, huh?" he says, gritting his teeth. The other men around the barrel have opposite reactions--half of them get amped, their eyes grimly excited by the possibility of a brawl. Others back away, considering an escape. One mutters to another, "Shit. Rosco's gonna hit that kid. Let's go!" Rosco, the aggressor drunk, gets encouraged by those behind him discussing his actions, and the idea of hitting Eddie appealing to him. He's caught in the moment. With Soleil's warning, even more men start to take notice, and begin fleeing the scene. Only three remain unphased, still anchored to the burning barrel. Eddie nods to what Soleil says. "We should g-get out of the street before they get here," he joins in. The drunk man gets another frown before the power booster gives him a sad look. "I don't want to fight at all, sir. So if you would please c-calm down..." he trails off, pretty sure it won't work. Soleil looks a bit uncertain as he looks between Eddie and Rosco, back to Eddie and he steps up beside the man, holding up his hands. "Monsieur...Monsieur, easy now...if you mess up mon brother's face, I will never hear the end of it, I cannot use him to help on the corners with the panhandling if he looks like he was bein' beaten up. Because then...." He tugs a disposable camera from an inner pocket. "I will have to be taking a picture of you...so /please/ listen...calm down..." Rosco balls his fist, enraged. Soleil's words only anger him more. He just wanted to fight *somebody*, and Eddie seems like a good of a punching bag as anyone. The two lingering drunk guys are egging him on, flanking both sides of him. "Get 'em, Roscy!" "Sock the kid!" -- aside from these three, the other people have more or less vanished from view, fearing the warnings of incoming police. Rosco's anger flares, his face looking pained: not the most conversational of men. He pulls back his fist, a motion one would make before striking a punch, but then he stops. His expression hangs there, vacantly, and he begins to fall to the ground in a thud, clutching his head. "Gaaaah, uggggh," he murmurs, which soon turns into the gurgles one makes when suddenly ill. His hand scrapes the asphalt of the street below. "Cancelled checks and mirrored selves!" Olivia shouts from behind Eddie and Soleil. Her expression looks angry, determined, and she's pointing feverishly at the man on the ground. "Harken back to your pit!" The two men flanking Rosco look to each other, and then to Olivia, and then to Eddie and Soleil. Then, they run, cursing something about 'mutants'. Eddie blinks and gives a confused look to Soleil when the other guy calls him his brother. "Please listen to him," he requests, hoping things don't turn violent. He does indeed give off that punching bag vibe. He's short and hides under clothes that make him look scrawnier than he is. But when the fist is pulled back, he doesn't blink. Of course what happens is completely against what he was expecting. He jumps a bit, looking down at the man and then at Soleil in confusion. "Oh man," he says, suddenly wondering about calling an ambulance. Oliva's shouts get his attention and he looks back her way. "What?" Soleil frowns when the man falls down, and someone is shouting and he frowns as he looks over to Olivia, moving to kneel down beside the guy to shakily try to check the guy's pulse before looking over to Eddie. "Run! Get out of here, call ambulance if you can for the location." He offers the option before looking over to Olivia now with a different expression, wary yet curious then he's back to staring at the man. "...at least you were warned..." Olivia glances over to Soleil, and then to Eddie, and then looks suddenly terrified. This change in her expression perfectly matches a sudden gasping from Rosco, still on the ground, and he putters out the words, "Gahh, what the hell just happened?", slumping himself over, trying to sit up. Olivia, sparing not a second, rushes away in a panic, tearing down the street. She quickly rounds the corner, and slips out of view. Roscoe holds his forehead, looking sickly and dazed. Eddie doesn't exactly run but he does start moving away. He doesn't go far, stopping in an alley to take out his phone so he can call an ambulance. He watches as Olivia goes running, curious and concerned but he's not going to chase her. Instead he's going to wait and watch to make sure Soleil is alright. Soleil looks down to Roscoe. "I tink maybe your drink was a bit too strong, wait here or...you can go down to the clinic on 42nd, they can ah, patch up your head a bit, its the only one not closed, oui?" He swallows and shakes his head before getting to his feet. Eddie ends the call as soon as the ambulance is on the way, watching to make sure Roscoe doesn't attack Soleil. He'll linger for a bit longer but he's staying where he is to avoid causing the earlier rage to flare back up. Category:Log